


you've done nothing at all to make me love you less

by theyarenotfree



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clumsy Harry, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Friendship, Fashion Designer Louis, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Science Experiments, Scientist Harry, boys who should just date already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:25:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyarenotfree/pseuds/theyarenotfree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The world has always spun the way they asked it to. The sun rises each morning and sets each night. Harry spills weird things and Louis loves him even more for it.</em>
</p>
<p>(louis is a second year fashion major who keeps getting caught up in the botched science experiments of the quirky but charming harry the science major)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've done nothing at all to make me love you less

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bottomlinsons (grimgrace)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimgrace/gifts).



> the full prompt i was given was:
> 
> "louis is a second year fashion major who keeps getting caught up in the botched science experiments of (the quirky but charming) Harry the science major.
> 
> ((I don't want to go too into detail so that you have room to move, so basically all I want is for Harry to be goofy and endearing and for Louis to be completely, completely endeared. If there's a little angst from some kind of misunderstanding before they sort out their shit then I'd be in fic-prompter heaven))"
> 
> i know nothing about science and i know even less about fashion but, boy, was this fun to write. i hope this is alright!! 
> 
> the title is from come back when you can by barcelona. also thank you to brenda for being the best beta!!

The first time it happens, it starts like this:

“Oh, shit!”

Louis’ hands pause momentarily. He glances at the door, mildly concerned with whoever may be yelling. He finishes sewing the second to last button on his Intro to Fashion Construction assignment and stumbles off the couch in the dorm lounge.

It’s then that he smells it. Louis doesn’t quite know what _it_ is, but there is definitely a smell and it is not pleasant. He drapes the hand-sewn shirt over his shoulder and creeps down the hallway.

The building is quiet, most of the students at an early morning class or still fast asleep. Louis has no good excuse as to why he’s awake at such an early time except that he procrastinated his assignment and spent the entire night finishing it before it’s due when class starts in an hour.

Louis, however, has a very good idea as to who it is that might be screaming at a time when no human being should be awake.

He reaches the end of the hallway where he stays in the single dorm room he luckily managed to snag. Across from Louis’ room, the door is wedged open a bit with a sneaker, smoke drifting into the hallway.

Louis pulls the door open farther and sees what may be the most terrifying sight he has ever come across in his life. The room is obviously meant to be a single, but there are two beds wedged into opposite corners. It’s almost amusing how cramped it is.

The room seems to split down the middle and form two completely different universes, just as it always has whenever Louis invites himself in here to bother Niall or tease his favorite curly haired boy.

The left half of the room is spotless. Literally. The sheets are tucked under the mattress in an impossibly perfect way. The dresser next to the bed holds an array of picture frames, arranged so the larger frames are in back and the smaller ones stay in front. Next to the pictures, there is a stack of textbooks, not an inch out of place. Even the carpet on that half seems vacuumed, soft and fluffy and clean.

The right half of the room is another story. Somehow the entire dresser seems to have been emptied on the floor and bed, clothes covering every available surface. There are half empty soda cans and microwavable burrito wrappers lining the space. The trashcan next to the dresser remains astonishingly untouched.

The split between the two sides of the room is almost cartoonish. And in the middle of it all is, unsurprisingly, a curly haired boy wearing a white lab coat. His hair is sticking up against his head from the strap on his safety goggles and his eyes lift nervously from the smoking lab beaker that lies spilled on the floor in front of him.

“What the fuck,” Louis mutters, swinging the door open wider to air out the room. The spill on the floor is bubbling and it is amazingly not the worst thing that Louis has seen happen in this room.

The boy is kneeling in front of the tipped beaker, attempting to clean up the mess without burning himself. He’s blushing and avoiding Louis’ eyes now, with no explanation as to why he brought dangerous chemicals into the student dorm rooms.

“Harry,” Louis says, voice remarkably calm. The smoke is filling up the room, thickening the air and giving Harry’s blush a grey tint. There is a sudden beeping noise as the smoke detector goes off, engaging the sprinklers and filling the room with a downpour of water.

Louis feels his hair sticking to his face and, more than anything, he feels the soaking wet weight of his almost complete shirt on his shoulder. The shirt that needs to be brought to class and submitted in an _hour_.

Harry looks at least a bit guilty, and a whole lot like a wet dog. His lab coat is near see-through now, and his safety goggles are fogging up like some kind of mad scientist. He glances up at Louis timidly.

His dimple craters his cheek and he fans his wet eyelashes sweetly until Louis shoots him down with an unimpressed look. Harry resigns, pouting playfully at the beaker on the floor.

“Louis,” he sighs, hiding a smile.

-

“I really don’t see why this is necessary.”

“Oh this is completely necessary.”

“But why?”

“Because, Harold. Someone needs to explain to my professor why my assignment is wet and smelly.”

“But Louis.”

Louis spins around quickly, keeping his tight grip on Harry’s wrist. Harry doesn’t seem to be expecting it. He stumbles over his big feet and bumps chests with Louis a bit. Louis stumbles backwards from the force of it.

“No buts,” Louis chides, releasing Harry’s wrist so he can cross his arms over his chest. Harry smiles cheekily. He curves his back and arches his neck down, making himself smaller so he is at eye level with Louis.

“Except for your butt, hopefully,” Harry grins and slips a hand behind Louis to grope at his precious ass. Louis bats him away without flinching. He grabs Harry’s wrist and starts to drag him toward the fashion building again.

“Now you _have_ to come with me,” Louis says, “No one touches the merchandise for free.”

Pulling Harry through the crowd is probably the equivalent of lugging a giant anvil or something. Only the anvil would give Louis a lot less cheek.

“But you let me _look_ at the merchandise for free all the time.”

A glance over Louis’ shoulder confirms that Harry is, in fact, staring at his ass. Louis isn’t concerned. Harry might just know his ass better than Louis knows it himself.

“Lou, I’m supposed to be going bird watching with Liam today.”

Louis tugs Harry’s wrist until he is pressed tighter against Louis’ back. He slows his pace on Harry’s behalf and they move through campus like they’re only one body. Louis pretends like he can’t feel Harry’s hips twitch against him.

“You like me better than Liam anyways.”

Harry doesn’t deny it.

-

The second time it happens, Louis thinks he is going to die.

Harry had mentioned something about building fireworks in one of his many boring science classes, but Louis had been too busy staring at his lips and now he is most _definitely_ dying or something.

“Fucking fuck,” Louis yelps, trying to blow the fire out. His partially finished design sketches are piled in the grass, burnt to a near crisp.

It takes only one glimpse of curly hair approaching from the distance for Louis to understand what happened.

“Harold!” Louis screams, knowing his voice is loud enough to be heard over the distance between them.

“Louis? What are you doing here?” Harry asks when he’s a bit closer. He gestures to the giant field, furrowing his eyebrows like some kind of puppy. Louis is really done with this kid.

“I come here to work and occasionally get assaulted with fireworks,” Louis says, throwing his hip off to the side to emphasize the sass.

Harry’s eyes catch the burning pile of sketch paper a few feet away, “Is that—“

“Yes it is. Dummy.”

Harry almost smiles. The little shit.

“Wow,” Harry shakes his head like he can’t believe it, “What are the odds?”

“You tell me,” Louis takes a menacing step forward, “You’re the science major.”

“That doesn’t even make—“

Louis grabs Harry’s shirt in a tight fist, pulling Harry down to his level. He uses his other hand to grab some curls.

“Listen here, you little punk,” Louis taunts.

“Louis,” Harry mutters, eyes darting in amusement. Louis rises a bit higher onto his tiptoes.

“We’ll discuss this later,” Louis concludes. He releases Harry, watching the way his eyes flutter when Louis’ hand leaves his hair. Louis twists his nipple as an afterthought and then marches across the field, leaving his burning homework and a startled, semi-dimpling boy in his wake.

-

“I’m sorry again about the firework thing.”

“We already went over this, H. It’s fine,” Louis rolls his eyes. He wiggles until he’s tucked tight under Harry’s arm, pulling his blanket higher over the both of them. Harry has Louis’ laptop balanced across his thighs with an old episode of Cupcake Wars playing.

“I swear I did everything right. The firework just veered off to the side for some reason!” Harry insists. He steals one of Louis’ hands out from under the blanket so he can play with the fingers nervously. Louis turns his head until he can bite Harry’s shoulder. Harry flicks him on the forehead.

“No flicking, you pine tree.”

“I should become an arborist,” Harry nods like Louis was suggesting exactly that. Their eyes find the computer where they watch some lady fuck up one of her cupcakes.

“You need more flour,” Harry tells her. Louis bites his shoulder again. A few minutes later, he falls asleep smiling with Harry muttering baking tips softly in his ear.

-

Louis avoids the science buildings like crazy after that, but there really is never any avoiding Harry Styles.

There are many instances of Harry spilling weird chemicals all over Louis’ things or setting off random fire alarms but it’s something that is so incredibly _Harry_ that Louis doesn’t even notice anymore.

Then there is the wretched day when Harry decides to drop mints into a giant bottle of [Coke](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cts3MrHnYIU) just for fun, and Louis makes the mistake of thinking it’ll be a harmless experiment. Harry ends up knocking the Coke over with one of his big feet and the foamy soda shoots out from the bottle and hits Louis directly in the face. He really has no idea why these things happen to him.

“Oh gosh,” Harry mutters in distress after he’s swooped a sputtering Louis off his feet and carried him like a child back into his dorm room. Harry looks awfully guilty and Louis is a lot more evil than he is in pain at the moment.

So he whines a little bit louder just for show and Harry pulls Louis’ wet shirt off for him and tucks him into bed. Harry ends up crawling in bed after him and hugging his torso like some kind of koala. Louis isn’t complaining.

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry groans against Louis’ chest. Louis can still feel the minty soda in his nostrils, and probably in his brain too, but he is remarkably fond.

“You idiot,” Louis says, running a hand through Harry’s hair to show that he’s not actually mad. He can never get mad, really.

“Hey, that reminds me,” Harry says lifting his head a bit so it’s not buried in Louis’ chest, “I bought some cool socks with flamingos on them.”

Louis pauses for a moment, wondering how much Coke he actually snorted up his nose. “Why does this remind you of flamingo socks?”

Harry raises his big eyes to look at Louis. He smiles and his face goes all wrinkly when he tries to hide it. Louis sees the dimple anyways.

“I’m trying to make you feel better, Louis, please play along,” Harry whispers, tapping Louis on the nose.

Suddenly the door bangs open, slamming against the wall and revealing the red faced Irish boy who suddenly appears.

“Louis!” Niall shouts, perpetually enthusiastic, “I heard you got hit in the face with Harry’s latest experiment.”

Louis doesn’t have time for a witty remark before Niall is breaking out in hysterical laughter, muffling it slightly as he leaves and closes the door behind him.

“That bitch,” Louis growls, choking a bit when he gets Harry’s hair in his mouth. Harry rolls off of him and moves around wildly until he is buried under the covers, pressed hot and tight against Louis’ sticky bare chest.

“I feel gross,” Louis says, wincing when Harry runs his fingertips over his collarbones. Harry snorts out a laugh, leaning in and running his tongue up Louis’ neck.

“You taste fine,” he says, shrugging and leaning his head against Louis’ shoulder while he yawns. Niall laughs from somewhere across the building, probably talking about all of Louis’ misfortunes. Louis sighs.

“I need a shower,” he whispers, like it’s a secret. Harry lifts his head to stare at Louis, eyes going droopy and blissful the way they always do during a good cuddle.

“’Kay,” Harry grins. He throws the covers off both of them. Then Harry, apparently obsessed with carrying Louis around, cradles Louis in his arms and brings him out of the room.

Louis doesn’t even yelp when he feels his body leave the safe, solid surface that is the ground. He only snatches an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers before Harry carries him to the communal bathrooms.

Harry rests Louis on the counters near the sinks and starts up one of the showers. He ruffles Louis’ hair quickly before sprinting to his room to grab some smelly soaps and towels. He nearly slips on the way back to the shower. Louis just watches from his perch on the counter.

“What on Earth are you doing?” Louis wonders aloud. Harry checks the water temperature with his hand, breathing in the steam it creates.

He doesn’t respond at first, instead choosing to whip off his shirt, his hair flying everywhere, and saunter over to Louis like a girl in one of those sexy shampoo commercials. Louis isn’t really expecting that, to say the least. His mouth may drop open a little bit.

“I made you messy, so now I have to clean you up,” Harry shrugs, like he didn’t just ruin Louis’ life in twelve words. Louis’ mouth is most _definitely_ hanging open now.

It’s just. It’s just that it’s bad enough Louis has to deal with this gorgeous boy flirting and giggling and saying dumb things _all_ the time. But now he has to deal with the memory of this moment and the constant boner it will bring with it. It’s bad enough that they’ve only ever been _just friends_.

“Yeah?” Louis croaks. The room is getting thick with steam.

“Yeah,” Harry nods, “Get naked.”

Louis nods blankly and slides off the counter until his feet hit the ground. His brain feels a little foggy but he slides his remaining clothes off with shaky hands. When he looks up, Harry isn’t even there anymore.

Louis furrows his eyebrows, stepping towards the shower where he can hear a voice softly humming. He hesitates while stepping inside. Louis can see the long stretch of Harry’s wet back, his curls flopping over his shoulder in wet waves.

Harry spins around when he sees Louis enter, and Louis makes a point to not look any lower than Harry’s chest. He reaches for the soap, but a giant hand stops him. Harry smiles sweetly, spreading the soap against Louis’ chest himself.

His short nails scratch gently against Louis’ skin. Harry rubs the bubbles into Louis’ abdomen, making him shiver against the big palms. Harry’s eyes drop to Louis’ chest, watching his fingertips leave trails of soapy suds on Louis’ skin. He has stopped humming, breath gone deep and ragged. It’s almost loud enough to be heard over the roar of running water.

Harry helps wash the soap off, hands still finding excuses to touch Louis. One of his palms presses against Louis’ cheek, cupping his face and stroking the skin. Harry’s thumb falls to press against Louis’ bottom lip, pink and wet in the warm water.

Louis stands as still as he can, afraid of what might happen if he moves too suddenly. Harry seems to catch himself before he can do anything else. His cheeks go red and hot, and he takes a subtle step back. Harry swallows thickly and then leans forward in one of the most heart attack inducing moments of Louis’ life.

Harry’s lips press softly against the corner of Louis’ mouth. He exhales a hot breath through his nose, pressing himself even closer before he disappears completely. Louis stands in the shower alone, feeling vaguely like he’s in one of those awful movies scenes where the girl _almost_ gets the guy.

It takes him a minute to turn off the shower and dry his lazy body. Louis dresses himself slowly and stumbles back to his room with Harry’s soaps taking up his hands. When he gets himself inside, he is almost shocked to see Harry there.

Harry glances up from Louis’ laptop casually. He dimples a bit and then turns back to the computer. With his damp hair curling wildly, he says, “Cupcake Wars or Breaking Bad?”

Louis snorts, setting the soaps down and resting a hand on his hip so he can give Harry a proper bitch face.

“Duh. Breaking Bad, you imbecile.”

Louis rolls his eyes and crawls into bed, finding his place against Harry’s body. He thinks he hears Harry mutter something, but pretty soon he’s got a strong arm wrapped over his shoulder and it’s reducing Louis’ motivation to attack him for any sassy comments he may have.

Harry buries his nose in the fluff of Louis’ hair, cuddling himself closer. He drifts off after a few episodes, snoring quietly. Louis feels Harry’s body go heavy with sleep. The press of his weight is a comfort—the kind of security that can never really be replaced.

Louis can’t sleep after that. He has an overwhelming urge to make something with his sewing machine but Harry is too light of a sleeper to not wake up. He decides to sketch instead.

Louis thinks of green eyes and brown curls and he draws dark draping silk and earthy accents. He draws until his hands ache, throbbing with callouses. He draws and he draws until his eyes droop. Then he slips his sketchbook under his bed and lets himself drift off, feeling each of Harry’s exhales against his slack lips.

-

The school year approaches an uneventful close, leaving Louis in a sort of dazed state. He bullies Niall and he flirts with Harry and he can’t believe the life he has made for himself in the past year is coming to an end.

Final exams creep up on all of them. Study sessions with Harry are more tickle fights and Netflix binges than anything else.

Nevertheless, Louis feels the pressure of it all.

He is faced with the difficulty of having to put together an entire line of clothing for the annual fashion show. He has Harry there for moral support and even then he still wants to die a little bit.

-

“You know, you’re lucky you’ve got a single room,” Niall comments from where he’s sprawled out on Louis’ floor, “I’m across the hall and I can still hear your fuckin’ sewing machine in the middle of the night.”

Louis scoffs, doubling back a stitch on the hem of one of his dresses. He throws a spool of thread in Niall’s general direction. It rolls under the bed. Louis whines.

“You sleep like a rock anyways, you fucker. It’s Harry who wakes up from the noise,” Louis says distractedly. He makes an aborted movement towards the lost spool of thread, but Niall doesn’t even attempt to retrieve it for him. Niall sucks.

“Yeah, you would know,” Niall mutters, but the sound is drowned out by Louis switching on the sewing machine to attach a zipper. Niall is a bitch anyways.

Louis turns off the machine when Harry walks in. He is holding a gallon sized plastic bag full of some weird pink goop. Louis overlooks it at the time, of course. He makes a gesture towards under his bed until Harry falls to his knees next to Niall and digs the spool of thread out from where it disappeared.

Harry hands the thread to Louis with a kiss on the cheek and later, after everything happens, Louis will wish he had paid more attention to the damn bag of goop.

-

It’s three in the morning before Louis stops his sewing and stitching and last minute design changes for the night. He’s been pulling quite a few late nights the past few weeks and it’s a little terrifying to think that the fashion show is in just two days.

He’s ready, of course. He’s prepared and he’s confident and he’s been forcing Harry to give him massages. It’s all very promising.

-

The last time it happens, Louis doesn’t even see it coming.

He’s finally got some free time, deciding to pick up some lunch for him and Harry before their movie marathon. There is a rack of perfectly designed clothes for the fashion show tomorrow, a stack of DVDs, and a pretty boy waiting for him back in his room. Louis is content.

It isn’t until Louis passes a frantic looking Niall on his way back to the dorms that he realizes something may be wrong. Niall doesn’t say anything, only glancing over his shoulder nervously and jogging away, which. _Jogging_. Niall doesn’t jog.

Louis hurries to his room, the pizza in his hands an afterthought.

And he finds Harry hovering hesitantly over Louis’ most prized cream-colored sundress, an empty gallon sized plastic bag clutched between his fingers.

Louis leaves the room when he sees the big pink stain.

-

“Louis—please!”

Louis ignores him, increasing his pace until the voice grows a little quieter. He is nearing one of the big fountains on campus, hoping Harry won’t try to make a scene with all these people around.

“Lou, Louis,” Harry grabs a hold on Louis’ waist stopping him in his tracks. Louis doesn’t turn around, keeping his tense back to Harry until he is sure he won’t do something impulsive and angry. They stand, mere centimeters apart, both of their breathing ragged and emotional.

Harry lets his forehead fall to rest against Louis’ shoulder blade, “I am so sorry.”

“Weeks, Harry. That took me _weeks_.”

Louis is shaking. His voice sounds sharp. He doesn’t sound like himself at all.

“I know,” Harry says.

“The show is tomorrow,” Louis grits.

“I know.”

Louis watches the water shoot out of the fountain, sunlight hitting the spray just right. It's pretty. Harry’s breath hitches somewhere against his neck. Louis almost wants to push him away.

“You always do this, H,” Louis tries to speak a little softer. He still feels like he’s yelling, even when his voice is barely a whisper.

“I _know_.”

Louis steps away, needing a little more breathing room. He rubs at his temple until he can think clearly again. Harry hovers behind him, so quiet and so unlike himself. It’s only after a few minutes that Harry speaks.

“Let’s just go back to the room, Louis, please. I’m so sor—“

“Yeah,” Louis sighs, pushing past Harry and walking away before he has to hear the words again.

-

The stain is hopeless, really.

Louis scrubs at it harder and it still doesn’t come out. Harry has been standing in the corner of the room, biting his nails, for a solid hour and Louis is just so exhausted. He stands up straighter, dropping the sponge and stain remover on the ground.

Harry must recognize defeat, because soon Louis is being wrapped up in big arms. He digs his face into Harry’s neck and lets himself be held.

“God,” Louis sighs, voice shaky with stress. His hands grab onto Harry’s shirt forcefully, eyes blinking fast. Louis tilts his chin up and lets his lips meet Harry’s in a long peck. Harry leans his weight into it, which almost makes Louis smile.

“I have an idea,” Harry says, shifting until Louis can see his face, “I’m gonna need your help. We need to make a lot more goop.”

-

Louis eventually finds himself watching a model strut down the runway wearing his ruined dress, which, amazingly, isn’t as ruined as he thought it was.

He had spent all night making pink and green goop with Harry, only to rub it against the dress in a weird abstract floral pattern that Harry absolutely loved. He had made Louis promise to make him a shirt with the exact same pattern and then he had kissed Louis breathless. Louis remembers it specifically because Harry got some goop stuck in his hair.

The show goes without a hitch and when the designers are called onstage, all Louis can see is the curly haired boy in the front row, clapping enthusiastically.

Louis dedicates his clothing line to his “mad scientist boyfriend” and Niall just about loses it from his spot next to Harry. Louis watches Harry blush like crazy and he smiles, happier than he’s ever been. Happier than he ever thought he could be.

Once all of his outfits have been packed up, Louis sneaks out by the catwalk, eyes roaming in search of one person, and one person only. It isn’t until Louis is pushed against a wall by soft lips and a purr of “boyfriend, huh?” that he finds him.

-

The last time it happens isn’t really the last time, of course.

There are countless dates gone wrong, and a dry ice mishap at their wedding. Harry buys their first son a science kit and then Louis has to deal with double the accidents.

But it’s the way they’ve always been—ingrained and natural. It’s so unapologetically _them_. The world has always spun the way they asked it to.

The sun rises each morning and sets each night. Harry spills weird things and Louis loves him even more for it.


End file.
